


The Wife

by h4t08



Series: The Nun [2]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4t08/pseuds/h4t08
Summary: Now that her formal title, ‘The Nun’, is behind her, Shelagh takes on her new role as a wife.Sequel to "The Nun".
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Series: The Nun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097240
Comments: 27
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after season 3 episode 3.
> 
> TW: discussions of a miscarriage and abortion.

A storm, the same one that had been threatening to overtake their small part of the world during the day, rages against the window panes, lightning splitting across the pitch-black sky. In a small room of an ordinary flat in one of the poorest districts of London, a woman lays curled in her bed with a blanket tightly wound around her tiny body. 

A single tear tumbles down her cheek as the heavy raindrops pelt against the glass, the weight of her penance pressing down heavily on her shoulders, its tentacles choking her far more than the threat of someone knowing about her past life. 

Shelagh has been lying in the same position since Patrick had been called long before the sun had decided to close out the day. He, of course, had telephoned her from the hospital to tell her that there was an emergency and that he would be home as soon as possible.

Swiping an errant tear away, she shifts her body so that she is laying on her other side, facing away from the door, her hand still drawn protectively over the soft curve of her belly. 

_ For one moment, one blessed moment, I was the happiest woman in the world... _

Thinking back, she remembers being in disbelief when her period had been absent for the second month in a row. It was only when Patrick had mentioned a young woman denying her pregnancy during labor did it open her eyes to the changes of her own body; her breasts too sensitive to touch, her mornings spent doubled over a toilet, the little flutter in her belly. 

_ I was nervous, yes, however I was over the moon at the thought of carrying this child, Patrick’s child, who was made from love rather than lust. _

_ Then two weeks ago _ … Her bottom lip trembles as tears once again gather in the corner of her eyes.  _ It was the day that everything had changed _ … 

She had stayed in bed that morning feeling slightly under the weather. Thinking back, she had foolishly thought it was morning sickness, however, the pain was different.  _ I was too busy thinking of the different ways I could tell Patrick about the baby, each idea more grandiose than the last _ . Just as she had finally decided to get out of bed, Patrick had come in from the surgery next door and asked her to bring the insulin to Nonnatus House. Being the dutiful wife she was always so proud to be, she did so without any hesitation, despite the nagging cramps. 

After dropping off the brown bag with Nurse Miller, she was just about to make her quick getaway from Sister Evangelina’s piercing stare when she had keeled over, a sharp pain charging through her stomach. 

Running her fingers through the fabric of her nightgown, the simple motion of her thumb caressing the faint curve of her belly helps to calm the chaotic emotions surging as the memory of that day replays over and over. 

Surprisingly, it was Sister Evangelina who had stayed with her until Patrick was able to get to the hospital. The doctors had told them that the root cause of her miscarriage stemmed from her tuberculosis diagnosis. After running more tests, including an exploratory operation, she now knows that she is no longer able to have children. 

_ Stupid, bloody scars. _

Since hearing those words, her fate set to a childless life, her mind has been muddled in a hazy fog, heavy with depression and confused that this was something she never imagined wanting until she could no longer have it. 

Hearing the front door shut and lock, Shelagh tightens her hold of the covers as she hears the telltale steps of her husband climbing the stairs. She buries her face into the pillow and closes her eyes, embarrassment causing her heart to pound against her throat. Ever since returning home from the hospital, Patrick had tried his best to take care of her emotional needs with the same finesse he uses to heal the physical ones, but it had turned out to be for not. 

She has spurned his every move, his every attempt at comfort and love. Yes, he has been patient with her, but now as she hears his hesitation at the foot of their bedroom door, she knows that his patience is quickly turning into hopelessness.  _ Something else I never would have imagined after returning from Paris _ . 

She hears him finally slip through the door, trying to make as little sound as possible. She holds her breath, desperately praying for him to be too tired to attempt more talking. 

“I know you’re awake, Shelagh,” Patrick sighs from the edge of the bed. 

_ Damn _ . 

“Today…,” his voice hitches, “today has been rather awful and, if it’s all the same to you, I just want to hold you.” 

The ice surrounding her heart cracks, the sound of his silent tears making her turn to him with an outreaching hand. Despite the depression blanketing her shoulders, he needs her and, for the first time in two weeks, she opens herself to him. “What happened?” 

Collapsing onto the bed, he presses their combined hands against his chest, “I was at the home of a patient when I received the call of an accident. A young man, Mr. Jesmond, the same one who is rather close with Nurse Lee, fell onto a pile of rubble. He…,” he kisses her knuckles, “he was in a bad way. I’ve just learned that the doctors had to amputate his foot.” 

“That poor young man,” Shelagh snuggles closer, the warmth of his body comforting her far more than the cold blanket she had clutched around her, “but I am sure you did everything you could.” 

“He is so young, his whole life ahead of him and I couldn’t save his bloody leg.” Letting go of her hand, he rolls onto his back. “I know you have so much more on your plate than to hear my inadequacies as a doctor, but I just could not bare the thought of another silent night between us.” 

The ice she had thought was unbreakable now melts into a puddle of humility and guilt,  _ how could I have been so selfish _ ? “I didn’t realize that you were feeling just as… just as dejected as I have been.” 

He opens his mouth, yet nothing comes out, his eyes glittering as the weak moonlight breaks through the storm clouds. “I felt…,” he takes a shaky breath, “I felt as if I have not been enough for you. There is so much that I have wanted to say to you, but I didn’t know how.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his jaw set as he turns back to her, “You have been unwell, and understandably so, but when I saw that young man lying on the pavement, I knew that I could no longer sit on the edge and twiddle my thumbs.” 

“Patrick—”

His fingers reach out, caressing her cheek, “Do you want us to have children?” 

“I… I…,” her mouth is sticky and dry, unsure how this conversation went from Mr. Jesmond to her infertility. 

“Don’t,” his plea tumbles from deep within his chest as she tries to slip from his embrace, “don’t block me out. Talk to me.” 

“We have only been married for a little over five months,” she begins on neutral territory, “our lives richly exciting the moment you drove me and our caravan of misfits from Saint Anne’s.” Her brow dips as her confidence plunders into the depth of their cold martial bed. “I honestly never thought about having a child until the moment I was told that I would never be given the option.” 

“Marianne was told of the same fate and, just like you, she blocked me out and I let her.” He lifts her chin with the crook of his finger. “Later, she had confessed to me that she felt ashamed that she was not able to bear any more children, yet, she had only told me when the cancer had spread.” He runs his thumb along her bottom lip, “The moment I knew that I wanted to marry you, I made a promise to both myself and to Marianne’s memory that I would not let this type of silence destroy our marriage.” 

“We are not destroyed, Patrick,” she captures his wrist and kisses the pad of his thumb, the first piece of affection she had given to him since after the surgery. “I just wasn’t sure how to feel or what to do. I was angry, but not at you, more at myself.” 

“You wouldn’t let me comfort you.” 

“I didn’t want to lead you on.” She squeezes her eyes shut, her mouth once again taking on the consistency of glue. “There are… there are days that I feel that you… that you should have…,” she takes a deep breath to gain her bearings, “there are days where I am convinced that we should not have married, that I have tainted your soul with my history as a prostitute, that I have corrupted your good heart.” 

“Shelagh—”

“I’ve had three abortions during my time as a whore.” She attempts to turn over, too ashamed to face him, but he stops her with the strength of his embrace. “This is my retribution for committing such atrocities and to know that I have dragged you down into the pit of hell with me is, at times, agony.”

“I love you,” his voice set in conviction, yet softened with tenderness, “and I would gladly walk the depths of hell if it meant being able to touch you, to hold you, and to love you.” 

His words, his continued devotion sparks a flicker of hope deep within her muddled chest. She had thought, for sure, that he would have bulked at her confession, but she is now soothed by the arms that continue to hold her. “I’m sorry I never told you before now.” 

“There is so much history between us that it would have been impossible for us to discuss every aspect of our lives in the small time during your stay at Saint Anne’s.” He gently kisses her knuckles, “If there is anything I have learned after today, is that life is incredibly too short for us to treat it with delicate hands. I am your husband, in sickness and health, through the good times and the bad, and I will never waste a moment letting you feel anything less than spectacular.” 

“I do love you, so very much,” she captures his cheeks with both of her palms. “I’m sorry that I had led us down this wretched silent road. I promise to be more open with you, even if there are times that I am unable to put words to my feelings.” 

“I promise to not allow this silence that we are so accustomed to drowning ourselves in to live long between us.” They snuggle further into each other’s embrace, exhaustion finally settling between them. “We will talk more, but for now, let’s rest.” 

“Patrick.” She curls her fists within his shirt, her eyes beginning to heavily fall with a sleep she had been denying herself since coming home from the hospital. “You are important to this house as well as to the community who depends on you.” And with a small sigh, secure within the arms of his embrace, she finally succumbs to her exhaustion.

* * *

“Tell me about the abortions.” 

Shelagh looks up from her needlework, a new habit she had recently discovered that she actually enjoys, to see that Patrick is staring hard at the Lancet. With Tim away at his grandmothers for the evening and the funeral for Mr. Jesmond a few hours earlier, they had taken to both dinner and the rest of their evening in silence.  _ Not quite the same silence that has been tearing us apart as of late, just one that is common after such a grueling day _ . “Look at me Patrick.” 

He takes a deep breath before dropping the magazine onto the table next to him. “Tell me, please,” he repeats, his jaw clenched in anticipation yet his eyes as gentle as the ocean on a calm, balmy day. 

Stealing a moment for herself, she idly wonders if the knitting will help her with this part of the conversation. That thought flutters out of her mind as quickly as it formed as she places her blanket squares and needles back into the bag, giving him her undivided attention. “With Liz’s connections, we were able to get everything taken care of in the hospital, no backstreet alleys where the instruments were just as dirty as the so-called doctors doing the procedure.” 

“I’m assuming it came at a price.” 

“A procedure like that always comes at a high price.” He makes a move to come to sit next to her, but she holds up her hands to stop him. As much as she would love his embrace, she knows that she will not have the strength to forge through this conversation. “The first time I had it done, I had gone by myself. Liz had given me a week to fully recover but I took one client after two days. It was painful and, maybe on a deeper level, I craved the same excruciating pain that the small life had gone through.” 

“Where was Lindsey in all of this?” 

Shelagh smiles, not one of joy but of relief, “She was, thankfully, able to catch me from total self-destruction a week later. That was the first time we had stayed with each other. She nursed me back to health and even encouraged me to go back to the church.” 

“I am glad she was there for you.” 

“In more ways than I can ever imagine.” 

“How do you mean?”

“I had a debt to pay to Liz after she had paid for both the procedure and the doctor’s silence, not to mention the amount of time I needed to take off to recover.” 

After a moment of silence, Patrick asks, “How did Lindsey help?”

“She had agreed to train me doing doubles.” She finally glances up at Patrick to see his eyes furrowed. “It had taken me a lot longer to work up the courage to go out by myself. I lost a fair number of regulars and, with the idea that I could fall pregnant again, I was hesitant to go into it alone.” 

“Did you know who the father was?” 

She doesn’t quite know why, but his question cuts her deep. There’s no judgement in his voice, no anger in his eyes, yet, just beyond the veil, she sees cool indifference, almost as if he were her doctor listening to her medical history. “I had narrowed it down to three men, but seeing as how they were all happily married, there was no other option.” 

He almost, almost, takes the bait, ambiguity sizzling into fury, yet he reins it in. “And the other two times?” 

“Much the same as the first, except I was smart enough to bring Lindsey with me and to take the week vacation. The only difference was that I was in a financial position to pay off the doctor on my own without accruing a sizable debt to Liz.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

While she can give reasons upon reasons and viable excuses, in the end, she was a scared woman lying on a cold metal table feeling her soul being chiseled away with each tug and pull. “There were three times I chose to end a life at its very beginning and, the one time I would have embraced this precious soul, my own body rejected it.” 

“It has been a long time since I have believed in the word of God, yet I find it hard to believe that God would be vindictive.” 

“It’s not vindictiveness, more like righteousness,” she murmurs under her breath. “I have committed a mortal sin, one that I would not be able to receive forgiveness for. The loss of our child is the payment of said sin.”

“And what of my payment? It takes two to produce a child.” 

“Your sin was falling into the bed of a whore and willingly participating in unsavory acts based solely on pleasure, ones that have wasted your seed.” 

They are once again plunged into a heavy silence. “And you have been carrying this all by yourself?” 

She bites down on her bottom lip, her tears barely being kept at bay. “There were so many rules in the religious life, so much so that when I was left struggling after Robert’s death, I sought after the same regiment. As much as you perceive Liz as a villain, the regiment she expected felt safe to me.” She takes a deep breath. “Now, with my new role as your wife and Tim’s mother, I find that I have to make my own rules and I feel myself floundering once again.”

Feeling the cushion dip next to her, she feels the warmth of Patrick’s palm on the curve of her knee. “Then why don’t you take on the role of my secretary at the surgery? I am in desperate need of one and maybe it’ll give you the stability you need.” 

“Do you think that is wise?” Shelagh gains the strength to look at her husband. “What if someone finds out about my past life?”

“The ones who know the truth are set on keeping it secret and, while I won’t say people aren’t curious about you, I think I have garnered enough respect from the community to keep their questions at bay.” 

She covers his hand with her own, “I won’t do it if there is even a slight possibility that it will tarnish your standing in the community.”

He smiles something gentle, it having the magical effect of soothing the riotous waves crashing against her sternum. “I remember you saying that about us exploring our relationship, then us marrying, and now with you gaining employment at the surgery.” He lifts her hand and kisses her knuckles. “How about you work there for a few months, say until the end of summer. If you like it and it agrees with you, then you can stay on, if not, then we can go back to the drawing board.” 

Her thumb reaches out and caresses the edge of his jaw, “Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one will look a little familiar if you had read those god awful poems just before Christmas! Haha!!
> 
> There is a little added on the end.

“Hello, dear,” Patrick deposits his case down in one of the empty chairs in the waiting room and kisses her cheek. “How is your first full day going so far?” 

“As well as it can be expected,” her focus on the task at hand was not deterred. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Fixing the records system.” She pulls out another misplaced paper with a scrunch of her nose and places it in the box by her feet. “No offense, dear, but it’s quite atrocious.” 

He takes a step back and settles on the edge of her new desk. “I hate to say that most of it is incomplete, both from the war and the sharing of duties between the surgery and Nonnatus House.” She shakes her head. “Not to mention, I’m not very good at returning the notes where they belong.” 

“Obviously.” She glances over her shoulder to see him sheepishly duck his head down. “Regardless, this will be my task while you are out on your evening rounds.” 

“Thank you,” he stands and steps up behind her, his hands capturing her waist as he kisses her neck. “May I interest you in some lunch?” 

She shakes her head again, “Please tell me you did not purchase a pie from one of those stands.” At his embarrassed look, she tuts, “Patrick, they are quite unsanitary.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Taking the misplaced file out from the drawer, she sets it in the box and turns to him. “I was able to go home earlier to make a sandwich for you. It is on your desk as we speak.” Before he is able to turn towards his office, she captures the lapel to his jacket with one hand and opens her other palm expectantly. “Hand it over.” 

He defeatedly sighs as he reaches inside his pocket and produces the offensive pie. “I always buy from Larry. He would never hurt me.” 

“I’m sure Larry’s heart is in it,” she throws it away with a disdained wrinkle of her nose, “that doesn’t mean that there isn’t cross contamination happening.” 

Goosebumps erupt across his skin at their proximity to each other. While they have been intimate since their discussion of her miscarriage and previous abortions, they have not tested their limits – or rather his limits. A year ago, he would have never even imagined doing the things running through his mind at this exact moment, let alone knowing about them, but now that he has tasted temptation, he can’t help but to want it with every fiber of his being. 

“Patrick.” Her voice, but a whisper, causes his heart to spike, desire etched in the sultry way she hardens the syllables in his name. 

He covers her hand with his and presses it against his pounding heart. “I’ve been thinking of nothing else but you.” He swallows hard to push down his overwhelming desire. “I can leave and work at Nonn—”

“No!” She pulls him towards his office and closes the door the moment they are safely hidden. 

He settles on the edge of his desk, his senses keen and alert to the supple curves of her body as she locks the door. She turns to him with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, his body on the brink of seizing as she steps in between his knees. He captures her hips and pulls her to his body. “Are you sure?” 

Her fingers fan out along his cheeks, the taste of her delicious lips playfully out of reach from his desperate ones causing his mouth to salivate. “You have been so gentle with me the last few days.”

“I love you.” 

“With all of my heart.” With a quick peck, she pulls at his belt and makes quick work of his pants. Settling down onto her knees, she immediately takes him into her palm, the tip of her tongue playfully caressing the underside of his head, almost as if they have all the time in the world. 

A content sigh leaves his lips. He would have never thought to enjoy this one act as much as he does, however, he can’t help but to give himself to it, especially with excitement gleaming in her eyes. Running his fingers through her hair, he gives her a slight tug, her moan being felt all the way into his knees. 

Opening her lips slightly, he thrusts his hips forwards, the head of his cock disappearing within the lusciousness of her mouth. As one hand glides him towards the grip of his release, her other plays with his balls. 

He closes his eyes, every feeling, every sensation, building within the pit of his stomach. “Bloody hell.” He can feel her smiling against him, her mouth taking him in further and further. Glancing down, his hips surge at the sight of his prim and proper wife in her prim and proper clothes on her knees, her lust filled eyes glittering with love and satisfaction. Feeling the ground shake beneath him, he grips her hair and comes in her mouth. 

She takes care of him with the loving touch of her gentle kiss as he shrinks down, her fingers caressing his thighs, encouraging him to remain stationary against the desk. “You were magnificent, my dear husband.” The warmth of her breath sends a bolt of electricity up his spine, yet his body remains flaccid against the hardwood, his wife’s dotting attention soothing his desire to return the affection she had willingly given to him. 

“I am going to ravish your body.” 

She looks to him with a sly smirk playing along her deliciously plump lips. “Not when you have patients to see in thirty minutes.” She pulls up his boxers and his pants, carefully piecing him back together as if he is her Humpty Dumpty. 

Gripping her upper arms, he pulls her up and crashes his lips onto hers, the debauched taste of her mouth is both salty and delectably sinful. 

She pulls away from him with a firm hand to his chest. “You should eat.” 

His hands slip down past her hips, squeezing her ass as he presses her against him, hunger in the form of her body making his soul rumble with desire. “I plan on it.” 

“Not at this moment, husband.” She pushes him out of their embrace. “Tonight, though, you will be between my legs.” Taking a step back so that his hands fall to his sides, she straightens her jacket and smothers out the wrinkles in her skirt before slipping into the bathroom.

* * *

_ My god, she’s gorgeous _ . Patrick leans against the door leading into their bedroom, his arms lightly crossed along his chest, his eyes never leaving the slumbering form of his wife. 

The night, unfortunately, had not worked in their favor, at least not in the way he had imagined after their lunchtime tryst. There had been a transverse delivery at the maternity home, mother and baby doing well; a possible delivery of twins, nothing more than Braxton Hicks unfortunately for the overwhelmed mother; and a suspected back alley abortion of a Cable Street girl found in an alley, baby deceased while mother is not expected to live. 

The last one had hit him rather hard. The girl had shared so many similarities with Shelagh that he had to constantly look at her face to make sure that the girl was not his wife. 

Now, as he gazes upon her body bathed in the moonlight, he can’t help but to thank God for all of the miracles that have blessed his life. A year ago, his mind was branded with the image of Shelagh having sex with other men. Two years ago, he was coping with the death of his wife. It has been a struggle for him, however, at this moment, he counts himself as the luckiest man to be alive. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

Pushing himself up, he slips inside and closes the door. “I thought you were asleep.” 

She flips her body over so that she is facing him, her eyes still drowsy. “I heard the front door close. How was Mrs. Peddleton?” 

The twins case. “Braxton Hicks, I’m afraid.” 

“Poor dear.” She lifts herself onto her elbow as he begins to undress. “Did that take this long?” 

He bites down on his bottom lip. “When I was leaving, a police constable flagged me down. They had found a woman bleeding in the alley not too far away.” Once he is stripped down to his boxers, he climbs into bed, his soul finally finding solace with his arms wrapping around the woman he dearly loves. “She was a known prostitute who had an abortion.” 

She gently kisses his heart as she tightens her hold of him. “Did you struggle?” 

“Providing professional service, no. However, as with most cases when dealing with back alley abortions, the tools in which that butcher had used were unsanitary. The infection she had received spread quickly leaving her unable to seek out medical help.” He kisses her forehead when the cold facts of the case allows the air between them to grow stale. “Personally, though, I did struggle. I had to keep telling myself that it wasn’t you.” 

“I am here, alive and healthy.” She affirms her presence with butterfly kisses being pressed upon his chest.

“I want to hold you tonight and kiss you and whisper words of love.” He lifts her chin and kisses the tip of her nose. “I had promised you something completely different earlier today and I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” She curls further within his embrace. “There is nothing I would love more than to snuggle with you and to love you.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning, Doctor Turner speaking.” 

“Hello, Patrick.” She grins when she can hear him scrambling in the background.

“Shelagh,” he sighs. “How are things at Nonnatus House?” 

“As well as can be expected.” Shelagh steals a glance at the door leading out of Sister Julienne’s office, satisfied that she had closed it when she walked in with her tea. “Sister Evangelina had grumbled a bit at first, but everything is going well. To be honest, everything was in fine-fiddle condition when I came to cover Sister Julienne’s administrative duties. Out of sheer boredom, there are times where I find myself walking into the kitchen. I can’t tell you how many batches of sweets I have made, all to the liking of Sister Monica Joan, of course.” 

“I knew you would do well,” she can hear the pride in his voice, her cheeks flushing bright red at his praise. 

“Sister Julienne will most likely return back from the Mother House soon, possibly before the jubilee.” She looks at the door again. “Honestly, I can’t wait to join you back at the surgery.” 

“Really?” 

She bites down on her bottom lip, “I just feel a bit claustrophobic here. Nothing on your part or theirs,” she quickly adds, “it just brings back so many memories.” 

“I understand.” He is silent for a moment, the crackling from the telephone making her feel a tad anxious. “What are your plans for lunch?” 

She suppresses a coy grin; he had been trying to get her to meet him for an afternoon tryst for the past week. He had been successful only once, but it was all the encouragement he needed to keep trying. “Nothing too special,” she murmurs into the receiver, “a cold cut sandwich I had made myself this morning. 

“Humph,” his grunt catches her by surprise. “You should save that sandwich for tomorrow.”

Her brow furrows, “Why?”

“I… well, it’s a surprise,” is his cryptic answer. 

“So,” she slowly mumbles, “you don’t want me to come over?”

He outright growls, eliciting a small giggle from her. “No.” He sighs heavily into the phone. “God, I want you.” 

“Well, apparently I am busy this afternoon and, if my memory serves me right, you’ll be starting your afternoon rounds soon.” She straightens her back into the correct posture. “Will I see you for dinner, Doctor Turner?” 

“We will be skipping dinner tonight, Mrs. Turner.”

She stifles the giggle that threatens to engulf her, yet, just then, the door springs open to Sister Evangelina looking utterly flummoxed. “I have to go, I love you,” she quickly murmurs before hanging up the phone. 

“Oh, for the love of God,” she throws her hands in the air, “please tell me that was your husband.” 

“It was,” she coyly smirks, quietly taking pleasure from her former sister’s discomfort. “Is there anything I can help you with, Sister?” 

* * *

“I have to say Mrs. Turner,” Sister Evangelina murmurs, inspecting the newly cleaned instruments, “I’m glad to see that your skills as a nurse have not disappeared.”

“It’s been a long while since I’ve had to sterilize equipment,” she pulls out the tray from the autoclave, “but, I find that it’s just like riding a bike.”

“You used to be a nurse?” Nurse Franklin sets her bag on the counter with Nurse Miller right behind her.

Shelagh blushes, “I trained as a nurse a long time ago.”

“Sister Monica Joan remembers that you were a novitiate in the order as well,” Nurse Miller kindly comments.

“What changed?”

“What an impertinent thing to ask,” Sister Evangelina huffs. 

“It’s no bother,” Shelagh shyly smiles, focusing more on the tools in front of her rather than the women surrounding her, especially when Sister Winifred and, their newest addition, Nurse Mount enters the room. “I fell in love with a doctor I had closely worked with. After much discussion with Sister Jesu Emmanuel, I felt that I could not in good conscience take my final vows.” 

“And this was before you had met Doctor Turner?” 

“Seven years ago. He was…,” she takes a trembling breath, her eyes remain focused on the task at hand. “He was quite tremendous.” The silence that follows is quite heavy with their unanswered questions, no doubt that they had picked up on her past tense. Instead of hiding away from it, she brings her heartbreak out into the open. “He died in Korea.” In an effort to keep her hands busy, she places the sterilized clamps into the bags. 

“Quite ironic that she should marry a doctor, eh?” Shelagh nearly drops the clean instruments onto the floor at the sound of Lindsey’s perky voice. 

“And who are you,” Sister Evangelina gruffly asks.

Lindsey gives her charming smile to all those around her. “I’m Shelagh’s lunch date.”

Shelagh’s “Really?” clashes with Sister Evangelina’s “Who let you in?”

“Really, darling,” Lindsey winks at Shelagh, “and the older nun let me though. Although, in my defense, Patrick had told me to bring something richly sweet to get into her good graces. She is currently munching on a chocolate cupcake.”

“Oh my god,” Nurse Franklin calls out. “Those black pumps are to die for.”

“Give me strength,” Sister Evangelina mutters under her breath. 

While everyone else looks down at the shoes in question, Shelagh quickly finishes her task. “All instruments have been cleaned, Sister. Mrs. B. has brought a spread of cold cuts for lunch and I had recently placed a pitcher of lemonade in the refrigerator.” 

Nurse Franklin ignores Shelagh altogether. “Where did you get them? Harrods?” 

“Actually, I was in Paris this past weekend, however, these are from a few seasons ago, so I was able to get them for a rather good price,” Lindsey smiles. “Are you ready, Shelagh?”

“I shall take my leave,” Shelagh blushes. “I should be back in an hour.”

“An hour and a half,” Lindsey quips. “Travel time,” she shrugs her shoulders. 

“Have a good afternoon,” Shelagh squeezes past Sister Evangelina and smiles at the nurses and nun before grabbing Lindsey by the elbow and ushering her to the front door. As they make their way out into the street, she gushes, “I can’t believe that you are here. Patrick had mentioned something of a surprise for lunch.”

“We had set this up last week, but with your change of duties for the time being, he wanted to make sure that you were able to get away.” The driver of the car opens the door for them. “Now, I have a positively delicious lunch planned for us, my dear.” 

* * *

“Tell me, darling,” Lindsey lights up her cigarette, “tell me everything about your new life as a doctor’s wife.”

Shelagh steals a glance around the elegant dining room, the Savoy always filling her with the same giddiness she always felt when she was in Brighton. “It’s been,” she abruptly stops when the waiter drops off their martinis. “It’s been absolutely wonderful. Patrick is… he has been so kind and loving.”

“And the sex?”

Shelagh blushes, her eyes slyly glancing around to make sure that they are truly alone, most couples spread out along the luxurious dining area. They had found out early on that if they had come between the end of lunch and the beginning of dinner, they were able to have a private lunch at half the cost. “Patrick has been rather open to all of the possibilities that I had shown him, not afraid to take the reins himself.”

“Lucky bastard,” Lindsey murmurs along the rim of her glass, her eyes sparkling in mischief. 

“It is I who is the lucky one.” Shelagh feels a small smile stretch across her cheeks; memories of the previous night happily playing in her mind of her hips cantering on top as his hands explored the memorized slopes of her body. 

“I love seeing you this happy.”

Shelagh looks up to see a genuine smile playing on Lindsey’s lips. “There have been some ups and downs, but we have had each other to lean on.”

“And how is the young Master Turner?” 

“Frustrated and bored, but he will have his gait test next Friday and he is determined to pass it with flying colors. He is ready to be rid of the calipers and to go play outside with his friends.”

“Which young boy wouldn’t?” Lindsey stubs out her cigarette and takes a sip of her martini. “And everything else is okay?”

Shelagh’s brow furrows, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Patrick had called me out of the blue to help set up this lunch between us.” She pauses as the waiter brings out their salads and a warm loaf of bread. “He also had told me that you have had a rough time the past month or so.”

Panic thumps against her throat, her curiosity as to what exactly Patrick had revealed nervously turning over and over in her brain. “What else did he tell you?”

“Just that you deserved to have a bit of fun,” she soothes, “and so naturally, he called me, the good man that he is.”

“He is a good man,” Shelagh whispers under her breath, the love for her husband growing exponentially within her heart as she picks through her salad. “I was, uhhh,” she tries to swallow her grief whole, “I was pregnant.” That is all she can manage, her sight turning into a kaleidoscope with the rush of tears. 

A warm hand covers her own. “Was it expected?” 

Shelagh shakes her head. 

“Was the news a happy one?” 

Shelagh nods. 

“Yet, they were not able to make it this far?” 

Staring down into her lap, she uses the napkin to catch her tears as she shakes her head. 

Lindsey gently squeezes her hand. “I am so sorry, my darling girl.” 

Shelagh takes a deep breath, trying desperately to dry the tears before they spill over and tumble down her cheeks. “The one time I wanted him…,” angrily wiping the tears, she steals a glance around the room to see that no one had seen her breakdown. Opening her purse, she pulls a cigarette from a full pack and lights it with a lighter she had stolen from Patrick’s pocket a few days ago. “There are no more chances to have children.”

“Well that’s that then,” Lindsey stubs out her cigarette, “isn’t it?”

“It is,” she murmurs between puffs. Ready to move the topic onto something less destructive, she quietly asks, “How is Martin doing?”

“Peachy keen, darling,” Lindsey’s whole face lights up. “He misses our times together as a group, of course, but we have found another girl.”

“Really?” Jealousy stings like a little mosquito in the pit of her belly.

“Liz thought it was a great idea to give me another student, especially since I have cut down my clientele by half. She’s young and keen enough,” Lindsey knowingly smirks, “but she’s not you. Little girl thinks that she is hot shit, so I’ve been knocking her down a peg or two.”

“How old?”

“Twenty-one!” Both women laugh at the idea of a woman ten and twenty years younger than them, respectively, just now getting into the business. “Believe me, if there’s a high demand, Liz keeps hiring them.” 

“How does her clientele list look?”

“Not very long. She is mainly hired for parties and old croakers who have more money to spend than the number of hours to live.” Lindsey finishes her martini as their waiter drops off their food and another round of drinks. After he leaves, she quietly adds, “Martin doesn’t care for her too much.”

Shelagh digs right into her salad, “Why is that?” 

“He would prefer if it was just me and him, or the three of us together,” Lindsey rolls her eyes. “You know him, nothing but an old, stubborn horse, who prefers the safety of monotony over the vivaciousness of variety.” 

“It sounds as if he just prefers you.” 

Lindsey blushes, “I like him, I really do, but I’m not ready to give up this life yet.”

“It will be the hardest decision of your life,” Shelagh reaches out and threads her fingers through Lindsey’s, “but, it’ll be one that I think you will never regret.” 

Lindsey squeezes her hand before pulling away to finish her meal. “Well, I say, once we have finished lunch, we have one more drink before I take you back to the convent.”

“How about you have another drink for me and then you take me back to the convent.” Lindsey gives her a pouty face. “I still have many things to do before leaving for the night and the last thing I need is for Sister Evangelina to accuse me of drunken incompetence. She’s already on a warpath and I would prefer not to give her a reason to distrust me.”

“A nun distrust you, of all people,” Lindsey mocks in jest, “no way!” 

Shelagh playfully rolls her eyes, “Her jubilee is coming up next Saturday, which was supposed to be a surprise, but since she found out, she has been in a foul mood.”

“Do you think we should stop by the bakery and bring back some more cupcakes?”

Shelagh giggles into her palms, “That wouldn’t hurt at—” 

“Hello, Bernadette.”

Shelagh’s shoulder tense, she knows that soft, bedroom voice anywhere. “Hello, Bernard.” She looks up to find a young woman wrapped around his arm.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he smoothly smiles.

“I bet,” Lindsey murmurs under her breath. 

Bernard pretends to not have heard her. “This is Candice,” he shows off the younger woman like a prized bull. 

“Nice to meet you.” Shelagh smiles before turning back to Bernard, “Are you in town for business?” 

“Yes, and I had convinced Candice to join me on this trip.” His eyes rake down her body. “I can see that you are feeling better since the last time we had met,” his eyes stop at the ring on her taken finger, “and that you are married. Congratulations, my dear.”

Shelagh plasters on a smile, “Thank you and yes, I am feeling much better.”

“And, I assume, Patrick Turner is the lucky man?”

Despite her uncertainty on how Bernard knows about Patrick, her smile never wavers. “Yes.” Standing up from the table, she gathers her purse and says, “I hate to be rude, however, we have to be going now.” She looks at the other woman, “It was nice to have met you, Candice.” 

“It was very nice to see you, Bernadette, and you as well Lindsey.” He flashes a bright smile, “Have a good evening.” 

Linking arms with each other, Shelagh and Lindsey quietly weave their way through the restaurant and up to the maître’d. “Hello, Peter,” Lindsey smiles. “Would it be possible to pay our bill here? My friend had just realized that she is needed elsewhere very soon.” 

“Your bill has already been paid, ma’am, by the gentleman over there,” he points over their shoulders.

“Thank you, Peter,” Lindsey quips, knowing full well who he is pointing to.

He bows, “We look forward to seeing you and Mr. Hendricks this Saturday.”

Scurrying out of the hotel, it isn’t until they are in the car when Shelagh can finally breathe. She would have been perfectly content without seeing Bernard for the rest of her life and, yet there he was, all glittery smiles and know-it-all eyes.

“That fucking asshole!” Lindsey digs out two cigarettes from her purse. “Coming in with little Miss Twat on his arm, probably thinking that her shit smells like fucking roses.” She lights up, handing one off to Shelagh. “And then, to top it all off, he goes behind our backs to buy our meal.” She takes two puffs before finally looking at Shelagh. “Why the hell aren’t you mad?”

“You’re too busy being furious for both of us,” Shelagh takes her first puff. “How does he know about Patrick?” 

“Isn’t he well connected?” She blows out her smoke. “Are you going to tell Patrick?” 

Her nail flicks along the filter, guilt from the decisions she had made so long ago bubbling in her stomach. “I will have to, but I’m not looking forward to it.” Relaxing into the seat, Shelagh cherishes the cigarette as they make their way back to Poplar.

* * *

“Hello, my sweet darling,” Patrick comes in and wraps his arms around Shelagh’s waist. 

“Ugh! Gross!” Timothy makes a face. “Can’t you wait to do that when I’m not in the room?”

Both adults roll their eyes at the young boy’s dramatics, yet they part ways. “Hello, dearest.” She gives him a small kiss on the cheek.

“How was your day? How was your lunch?”

“Both went beautifully,” Shelagh smiles as she pulls the roasted chicken out of the oven. “I was able to requisition a new autoclave for Nonnatus House and I also set our newest nurse on a pay scale.”

“And your lunch?” 

“Was much needed,” she murmurs. Checking over his shoulder to see that Timothy is busy with his model car set, she leans in and kisses Patrick. “Thank you for setting it up.” 

“You are very welcome.” He steals a few more kisses until Tim growls at them. “I’ve told Lindsey that she is to take you out for lunch anytime, my treat.”

“We were talking about having lunch together every Friday, but then I told her that I would discuss it with you first before making any plans.” 

“You can have lunch with Lindsey anytime you would like, you needn’t bother to ask.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow to set it up.” She turns back to the oven to check on the vegetables. “If you look in my purse, there’s an envelope with some money in it. Lindsey wanted to give it back to you.”

He doesn’t make a move for the money. “I had told her that I would pay for lunch and she had agreed.” 

“She was,” Shelagh busies herself with slicing the chicken, “however, our meal was paid for when we had asked for the bill.”

“By whom?”

Sending up a silent prayer that Patrick will take the news better than she has been hoping, she takes a deep breath as she closes the oven. “Bernard is in town and had seen us there.”

“Are you bloody kidding me!” 

“Dad!” Timothy exclaims from across the room. “I was gluing on an important piece and now it’s messed up.”

Shelagh glances over her shoulder to see Patrick trying in earnest to calm himself down. “I didn’t know he was there until the end of our meal.”

He steps towards her, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders, “What did he say to you?”

She leans into his embrace, “Nothing that would be untoward, I promise you.” 

His arms wrap around her body as he kisses the top of her head. “And what did you say to him?” 

“We exchanged pleasantries and then Lindsey and I left.” She feels his body exhale out the stress he had pent up since she had mentioned Bernard’s name. Leaning out of his embrace within a fraction, she captures his cheek and murmurs, “You have nothing to fear, Patrick. I love you. I married you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Never with him.” 

“But he can give you everything,” he whispers under his breath. 

“He doesn’t have the ability to give me this; a loving home, a husband’s patience, a twelve-year old’s ability to pull us apart at the word ‘mushy’ and a pinched face.” Tim giggles under his breath while Patrick grins. “Despite what most people think nowadays, money cannot buy everything.” 

“Money cannot buy me the full use of my legs.” Tim comes up and wraps his arms around his parents, Shelagh’s heart soaring to greater heights. “I should know, I checked every library book I could find and scoured dad’s impressive number of Lancet magazines.” 

Patrick looks to Shelagh before asking, “When did you do that?” 

“What else was I supposed to do when I was being cooped up here or at the library?” The young boy steps out of their embrace, a sneaky look crossing his eyes as he sharply adds, “But there is something that money could buy.” 

Patrick grins. “And what is that?” 

“A new Spitfire modeling kit. With all of your yelling and mushy stuff, I messed up the model I was working on.” 

And, just like that, the spell is broken, anger from before neatly pushed out of existence as Shelagh returns to finishing dinner and Patrick goes to help Timothy fix his airplane. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @aimeejessica with the beta work! As with others, this would have died a lonely death on my hard drive. You are amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> Will be published as snapshots, rather than as a story.
> 
> Thanks to @aimeejessica for reading over these.


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